


Blood Will Out

by rosewiththorns



Series: Hot Blood [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Detroit Red Wings, Dominant/Submissive, Fondling, French Kissing, Kissing, M/M, Preparation, Sexual Submission, Vows, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 20:30:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6922261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewiththorns/pseuds/rosewiththorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hank swears to serve, love, honor, and obey. Steve swears to guide, love, discipline, and protect. Hank belongs to Steve, and Steve claims Hank. See author's note for an important warning. Written per reader request.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Will Out

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written per reader request for a piece where Hank is Steve’s submissive and has a history of being abused. References to past physical and emotional abuse appear in this story, so please be aware of that and exercise discretion when choosing to read. 
> 
> Also, as you can tell by the ending, I’m planning on writing a longer series (how much longer is to be determined) where Hank and Steve are in a dominant/submissive relationship, so keep an eye out for future installments if this type of story is your cup of tea, and, if you have any suggestions for stories in this arc (though I already have some ideas prepared, so don’t worry) feel free to let me know in a review. Thank you!

Blood Will Out 

Hank knew that his body would betray him—reveal the wretched, cringing creature wrapped in man’s skin, but, as Pappa and Erik Hansson (who still dominated Hank’s mind, even if Hank’s body had finally escaped Erik’s tortures and manipulations)—sometime during the physical with Doctor Finley. It was just a question of what part it would be. 

The giveaway might be his heavy breathing, which surely must be too loud for just sitting on a gunnery. Perhaps the heart thudding in his chest as Doctor Finley ran a cool stethoscope across it would do the trick (although Pappa had scornfully declared that subs had no heart when puberty had arrived and made it clear that Hank was not a dominant or a neutral, but a submissive—in Pappa’s estimation, not a real man—and Hank had felt as if his heart had been ripped out, still pumping blood, from the cavern of his chest, at that contemptuous statement). Maybe it would be the pulse pounding in his veins that would be the traitor, waving the red flag of high blood pressure. In the end, his bad blood did indeed out him as a sub, but not in the way Hank had envisioned. 

“That’s all.” Doctor Finley contradicted his announcement by wiping a needle with a sanitizing swab, inserting the needle into a readout screen, and pressing the needle against the exposed flesh of Hank’s shoulder. “Just a simple blood test.” 

“What do you need a blood test for, doctor?” Hank tried to keep his tone casual, but he could hear it shaking, just as he could feel his muscles tensing. 

“I just need to make sure you aren’t a sub or a dom,” explained Doctor Finley, the soothing smile he bestowed on Hank only causing Hank’s stomach to perform ever more impressive gymnastics as he imagined the disgust that would replace Doctor Finley’s friendliness when he discovered that Hank was a sub. “If you’re a dom, we’ll need to find you a sub to control, so you’re alpha urges don’t get out of hand, and if you’re a sub, we’ve got to match you with a dom, so you don’t become undisciplined. It’s our medical duty to our players.” 

Hank squeezed his eyes shut. He was aware of the science behind a blood test revealing whether a person was a sub, dom, or neutral, because he, like all Swedes, had been subjected to it when he entered adolescence. A simple prick of a needle drew forth droplets of blood. The presence of one enzyme in the blood sample indicated a dom, the presence of a different enzyme in the blood sample meant a sub (and if both enzymes existed, the first enzyme was dominant, marking the person as a dom), and the presence of neither indicated a neutral. 

He understood more about the genetics behind dominants and submissives than most because he had researched it, wanting to get a stronger handhold on who he was and why his father despised him. According to Hank’s research, a dominant, like Pappa, who married and made a baby with a neutral like Mamma could produce a sub only if the dominant had a recessive sub enzyme that was passed along to the offspring, because a neutral had no submissive enzyme to give to the baby. Not that this logic had stopped Pappa from screaming—face flaming hotter than a burning building—at Mamma on more occasions than Hank wanted to count or remember that it was her fault their son had been born a sub because his blood was pure dom back nine generations…

“Afraid of needles?” Doctor Finley’s gentle voice interrupted Hank’s horrible thoughts, and, because it was easier to pretend to hate to be stabbed with poky objects, Hank nodded. Patting his shoulder, the doctor murmured, as he pushed the needle into the blue river of Hank’s vein, “Just a prick. It’s over now.” 

It wasn’t over, though. In fact, it was just beginning. When the readout beeped, Doctor Finley glanced down at the glowing screen. His amiable expression didn’t falter, which Hank interpreted as a sign that the doctor was a professional above all else who would probably be able to keep the horror off his face when receiving the results of a test that indicated a patient had terminal cancer. “Ah, you’re a sub then.” 

“Guilty, sir.” Flushing to the roots of his hair, Hank lowered his eyes, dropping his gaze first to the gunnery and then to the linoleum floor. 

“Nothing to be ashamed of.” Doctor Finley reached under his chin and tugged it upward, so their eyes met for a second before a humiliated Hank had to blink. “Some of the best players in the NHL are subs, you know. We’ve just got to find you the right dom for you, kid. That might be a bit difficult since we only have two of them on the team, and Brett already has a sub. We just have to hope that you and Stevie take a liking to each other, or else we might have to pair you up with a neutral.” 

“The Captain is a dom, sir?” gasped Hank, jaw agape and eyes wide, although when he thought about it, it made sense that Steve Yzerman would be a dom. He definitely wouldn’t be a sub, since as Pappa would point out if given half a chance, subs were weak and never respected, fit only to be lead like lambs to the slaughter. 

“Right in one.” Doctor Finley nodded and turned on his heel. “I’m going to talk to him about you, but first I’ll send Pavel into prepare you.” 

Hank didn’t have to ask what Pavel would be preparing him for, because he knew that to start a relationship a sub had to present himself —naked and vulnerable—to a dom for inspection. After inspecting every private crevice, the dom could declare satisfaction with the sub’s body, at which point the sub accepted the dom’s mastery by promising before witnesses to serve, love, honor, and obey his dom, while the dom would swear before those same witnesses to guide, love, discipline, and protect his sub. Then the dom would claim the sub by exerting dominance over the sub’s genitals. 

Hank’s stomach knotted as the door to the medical room opened and shut. As Pavel slid onto the gunnery beside him and began to wrestle with the lid of a cologne bottle, he remarked in mild reproach, “You not telling me you a sub like me, Hank. Not nice keep secrets from you roommate.” 

“I didn’t know you were a sub,” Hank muttered, as Pavel dabbed dollops of cologne—scented like the pines that grew in the northern forests—along each of Hank’s nipples. “And it’s not like I go around announcing to the world that I’m a sub.” 

“Take off shorts and boxers.” Pavel tapped Hank’s waistline. “Need rub cologne on your dick and asshole.” 

“Why?” Hank asked even as he pulled off the garments as Pavel had requested, dumping them on the floor. 

“Because Stevie favorite scent is pine, and you want your anus smell like it first time you present it to him. He like that.” Jerking his guitar chin at the clothes Hank had deposited on the floor, Pavel piped, “Stevie not like mess. You better fold those up and put them on chair if you want make him happy.” 

Remembering how Erik would yell at him, beat his knees bloody and make him kneel on tiles, jab his nipples with needles and then tighten clamps around them until they were swollen and purple from bruises, force him to have sex without lube, or any of a thousand other torments any time he had displeased his former dom back in Sweden, Hank winced, ducked to the floor, snatched up his garments, folded them neatly, and placed them carefully on a chair before lying on the gunnery so Pavel could finish his preparations. 

The idea of Pavel rubbing cologne on his penis made his skin tingle, but he couldn’t protest when that might take time away from his preparations. Being unprepared for a new dom would not be the right note on which to begin their relationship. 

As Pavel massaged the cologne into his cock, Hank gasped and squirmed, because whatever chemicals provided the pine scent also stung his privates. 

“Flip over.” Pavel drummed a finger against Hank’s hip. “Need do your asshole now.” 

When Hank, blinking back tears, complied, he discovered that the pain in his penis was nothing compared to the agony that flared in his anus when Pavel spread a drop of cologne into its delicate folds. 

“Hurts.” Pavel clucked his tongue sympathetically as he withdrew his finger from Hank’s blazing asshole. “But you ready for your new master, and he love you right away when you smell so perfect. I promise. I prepare you right.” 

The words had barely left Pavel’s lips when the door opened again, and Steve Yzerman trailed by Brett Hull walked in. As the door closed with a click behind Brett, Pavel bolted from the gunnery and sat down on Brett’s lap, allowing Brett to nuzzle his forehead and slink an arm around his waist, cupping his crotch. 

Trying not to imagine what Brett’s hand might be doing, Hank glanced nervously up at Steve, wondering what kind of dom he would be, and then, not wanting to be perceived as challenging his new master, let his eyes droop. 

“You don’t need to be scared of me.” Steve snatched up Hank’s hand and squeezed. “If I end up being your dom, I’ll be as gentle as I can with you, and when I can’t be gentle, I’ll be firm but never cruel.” 

“Yes, sir,” Hank whispered, hoping more than believing that he could trust this. 

“Good boy.” Steve’s murmured praise, which sounded almost like an endearment, brought a flutter to Hank’s heart, as Steve, stroking a palm up Hank’s arm, asked, “Would you be interested in being my sub?” 

“Yes, sir.” Hank nodded, knowing he needed a dom, and Steve had been gentle with him so far and even asked him a question about what he wanted, something that Erik would never have done. Erik had only cared about how Hank could fulfill his needs and desires, not about how he could fulfill Hank’s, and Hank hadn’t dared to do anything but except that, because Erik was his dom and he would be punished for any complaint or protest. 

“Then let me inspect you.” Both Steve’s hands were caressing up Hank’s arms, and Hank couldn’t control a gasp when they started massaging the taut muscles beneath the shoulders. Hank half-expected Steve to sneer as Erik would have and make a derisive remark about his muscles being too big for such a small body, but Steve only whistled in what seemed to be admiration for how Hank was sculpted. “You’re very strong.” 

Steve’s palms drifted down Hank’s collarbone to explore his chest. As Steve’s hands traced the outlines of his abs, Hank feared the fingers would pinch around any hint of fat, and he would be berated, as he would be by Erik, for making his natural ugliness even more apparent by not taking proper care of himself. Instead Steve blew a stream of compliments about how powerful and attractive his abs were. 

At the praise, Hank felt his nipples perk with excitement. Apparently noticing the erectness of Hank’s nipples and deciding to pay attention to them, Steve rubbed and tugged at them until Hank couldn’t stifle a moan of arousal. Erik would have snarled at him that he wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this and that Hank’s body was meant to pleasure his, not the other way around, but Steve gave a wry smile before lowering his lips to lick lightly at Hank’s nipples. 

“You taste and small delicious.” Steve’s tongue swirled fervidly around Hank’s nipples, causing Hank’s skin to tingle wherever it touched. “I can’t get enough of you.” 

“That would be the cologne.” Hank was now extremely grateful for how Pavel had prepared him. 

“No.” Steve nibbled at Hank’s nipples in a manner that Hank recognized as a mild reproach. “It’s you. Don’t argue with me.” 

Hank, not wanting to disagree further, shut his mouth and lowered his eyes, cheeks flushing at being forced to accept a compliment he knew he hadn’t earned. 

“You’re stubborn and modest.” Steve kissed a path down Hank’s chest to his hips. As his lips teased the tip of Hank’s stiffening cock, Steve went on, voice thick with desire, “I like stubborn and modest in a sub.” 

Hank mewled when Steve removed his mouth from the head of Hank’s penis but was distracted when Steve clasped his hands between his own, stared into his eyes with a gaze warm as melted chocolate, and whispered, “Ready to exchange our vows, handsome?” 

“Yes, sir.” Hank swallowed the frog that was threatening to leap out of his throat. As Steve squeezed his fingers reassuringly, he said, managing to keep the quivers confined to his heart rather than his tone, “I, Henrik Zetterberg, do solemnly swear to you before these witnesses that I will be your steadfast sub, serving, honoring, loving, and obeying you as long as our relationship shall last.” 

“I bear witness.” Brett speaking from the opposite gunnery caused Hank, who had forgotten about the presence of witnesses to start. 

“So do I,” put in Pavel, hushed and reverent. 

“And I, Steve Yzerman, do solemnly swear to you before these witnesses that I will be your devoted dom, guiding, loving, disciplining, and protecting you as long as our relationship shall last.” Steve’s eyes grabbing hold of Hank’s and not letting go as he offered this vow made Hank again feel as if there was no one else in the room—maybe even in the world, though that was probably a stretch—so it was again a surprise when Brett and Pavel chimed into the ritual. 

“I bear witness,” Brett affirmed. 

“So do I,” echoed Pavel. 

Time seemed to slow as Steve bent his head, lips brushing across Hank’s. As Steve’s mouth—sharp with the taste of pine from the cologne—moved over his, Hank felt as if time was racing forward at twice its normal speed like it needed to compensate for lagging in its pace earlier. His heart pounding at twice its typical rate to match the wild clock they were on, Hank felt as if everything was almost too fast and furious as Steve’s tongue nudged his lips apart and ran his tongue along Hank’s until they were tangled like eels. 

Hank was short of breath when Steve’s hands abandoned his to wrap around his dick and balls, stroking and squeezing in a way that shot the remaining oxygen from Hank’s lungs. His blood burning with desire and his cock already aching to orgasm, Hank pressed more passionately against Steve’s palms. Afraid to come without permission for fear of getting punished with a cock cage (because that’s what Erik would have done), Hank whimpered against Steve’s tongue, too overcome by mingled ecstasy and agony to find the words or the air to beg to come. 

“Be a good boy and come for me.” Steve’s tongue tickled the insides of Hank’s cheeks, and Hank, not needing any more encouragement, fired a warm, white stream into Steve’s hands. Lifting his semen-stained fingers up to Hank’s lips, Steve stuck out his tongue to suck off Hank’s salty juices, declaring as if he were a food critic evaluating a dessert at a fancy restaurant, “Hmm. I was right earlier. You do taste delicious. Your cum is very addicting.” 

This moment, where he had felt things that he had never felt even when Erik engaged in the most sensual and sexual of practices, had left Hank speechless, but he was grateful for that, because if he stayed silent, he couldn’t say the wrong thing and mar this sliver of bliss. 

“I’ll take you back to my home, and get you comfortable in the guest bedroom you’ll be living in as long as you’re my sub.” Steve had finished licking all the semen from his fingers and was becoming more matter-of-fact, already deciding on the next step in their relationship, and Hank waited to hear how he could serve or please his new dom. “We’ll have some time to talk about my rules, the consequences for breaking them, your limits and history, and both of our expectations for this relationship before dinner. Okay, Hank?” 

“Yes, sir.” Hank, eager to show that he was agreeable, bobbed his head in confirmation. “I want to make you happy, I promise.” 

“I know you will.” Steve patted Hank’s shoulder and kissed Hank first on the forehead and then on each of his eyelids. “You already do, my dear, little sub.”


End file.
